


A Need

by hitokiri



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blushing Sam Winchester, Bottom Sam Winchester, Coming In Pants, Crying Sam Winchester, Dominant Dean, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Panties, Panty Kink, Sam In Panties, Season/Series 08, Tongue Fucking, Top Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester/Bottom Sam Winchester, Touch-Starved Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23395363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hitokiri/pseuds/hitokiri
Summary: Sam wants to fix things between him and Dean when they get back on the road together, but Dean's distant, hard from purgatory. Sam tries out indulging his brother with panties to get him to want to touch him again. It works.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 218





	A Need

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless Sam in panties smut.
> 
> I do not own Supernatural. If I did, Dean would be a lot nicer to Sam in the show.

"Sammy, you--"

Sam blushes, bites at his bottom lip. "Don't--"

"Fuck," Dean practically growls. It goes straight to Sam's lace-covered cock. "That's _hot_."

He's on Sam in record time, pressing him against the wall, ravishing his mouth like a man starved. Sam opens to him easily, eyes falling shut and arms going around his shoulders, pulling Dean closer.

He didn't think much of it when he bought the panties, just thought 'maybe Dean would like it' when he stopped in a sex shop on the way to pick up dinner for them. Not usually prone to places like that, he didn't know what came over him, except that the Sexporium was in the same strip mall as the pizza place he was picking up dinner at. He'd safely tucked Dean's cheesesteak sub with a side of bacon cheese fries (bacon... _disgusting_ ) and his own chicken caesar salad into the passenger seat of the Impala and walked two shop doors down.

A heavily pierced, purple-haired girl with flat-ironed black bangs sitting at the front desk listening to death metal and reading a magazine (Revolver) greeted him almost boredly, until she looked up at him. Her pierced eyebrow seemed to glint in the low light of the foggy room and her eyes lit up with interest. "Welcome to Sexporium," she says, seemingly less bored now. "Anything I can help you with?"

"I'm, uh," he stutters, nervous. Thirty year old man, blushing and stammering at a girl barely in her twenties who works at a sex shop. He would be mortified if Dean could see him now. "I'm just looking. Never--"

"Ah, fresh meat." It gives him predator/prey vibes, and had he not already researched this town for potential monsters upon their quick stopover on the way to a hunt, the prominent hunter side of him would have thought he was in danger. "If you need _any_ help, I'm here if you need me."

"Uh, thanks." If nothing, he will always be polite.

Things between him and Dean have been strained. Dean spent a year in purgatory and came back rough and rugged, even more than when he was yanked out of Hell by Castiel, and he never gave Sam a chance to _explain_ what really happened in that year. It wasn't just boy hits dog. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl live happily ever after. But now, months into Dean's return, Sam has given up trying to find the right time to tell him.

There isn't a right time anymore.

He just wants to go back to some semblance of normal.

How he thinks he'll find that here, in the Sexporium, he will never know. But he meanders around the shop nonetheless and finds himself in the lingerie section. He's never entertained the idea of panties before, not even the few times Dean had asked him to try it out, but there does seem to be something comfortable looking about the small, frail garments that pique his interest if anything. Lace and satin and silk. Frills and flowers and bows. Skimpy little panties, making him wonder how good they'd feel holding his heavy cock.

He thinks maybe he should have brought Dean. Dean would have a great idea of what style, color, and fabric would suit him. "Girlfriend?"

Sam almost jumps. He hadn't heard her get up or walk over. Dean would kick his ass if he knew Sam let his guard down. "No," he sputters, "No one."

"I see," she hums, steps beside him and reaches for a pink lace thong. Holds it up next to his face before humming again and putting it back. Does the same with purple, and blue. Green. The green is held longer and Sam's stomach drops; almost like the green of Dean's eyes. He waits. "No," she contemplates. "None of these." Picks up a black pair and a white pair, holds them on either side of Sam's face. "Angel and devil."

"Ex-excuse me?"

"White and black, good and bad, angel and devil." Sam feels himself relax, only barely. "You should get them both. Not only do they match your skintone, they could also be worn depending on your mood. Nice, you wear white, naughty, black."

They're lace, grateful she didn't choose the thongs. He doesn't think he's ready for that.

He gets both, leaves the shop blushing yet satisfied. She calls, "Come back anytime, sugar."

The panties are small enough that the black plastic bag fits in the pocket of his Carhartt, easily hidden away. He makes up some bullshit excuse about a long line when he gets back to the motel and Dean compains about him taking too long. They spend their time eating in silence. Dean is a messy eater, especially with a cheesesteak sub soaked in red pasta sauce and cheese and peppers and onions ("Lots of onions, Sammy, you know me!"), while Sam doesn't make any messes with his salad but uses a napkin anyway.

After they're done, Dean settles down in his bed -- the one closest to the motel room door, as always, Sam notes with a warmth in his belly -- and turns on the TV. Sam heads to the bathroom, making sure Dean doesn't notice him grab the bag from his jacket, to take a shower and get himself ready. He's nervous and shaky, worried that this will just backfire and Dean will become even more distant, but he's got to try something. He misses his brother.

He takes his time in the shower, cleaning himself from head to toe, and then working himself open slowly with a hiss of discomfort. It's been well over a year since he's been touched back there and part of him is worried that Dean will want to be rough with him, pent up anger and purgatory, betrayal. He doesn't know if sex will be the outcome, but he's needed this for a long time. Whether Dean wants him or not, Sam won't regret fingering himself.

He doesn't allow himself to come, just jerks himself to full hardness and then squeezes to stave off his orgasm. He breathes through the pain of denial and waits until he's sure he won't blow his load when he lets go. If things go as planned, he can come with Dean fucking him. If they don't, he'll rub himself off and come in the panties. The silky lace will feel good against his dick.

Letting go, he rinses off all the soap from on and inside him, then climbs out of the shower and into the steamy bathroom. The mirror is fogged and he uses a hand to wipe a strip of fog away, staring at himself through the condensation on the mirror. His face is flushed; whether it's from the hot shower or what he just did or what he's about to do he doesn't know. He takes time drying himself off, making sure to get his lower half especially dry, not wanting to risk the new panties before he can use them to their potential.

Black or white is a debate. It will be their first time in a long time... he goes with white. The girl in the shop was right about skintone. The white clashes with his tan skin and he hopes Dean likes it.

He dries his hair to the best of his ability, though some water droplets fall onto his shoulders and slide down his heated skin. He breathes in, gives himself a once-over, and then opens the door. Steam leaves the bathroom before he does and Dean says, "Damn, Sam, think you used all the hot water in the whole _town_ ," before he really notices Sam. Then, his eyes go wide. He stands, moving so fast Sam would have thought he was supernatural if he didn't know better. "Sammy, you--"

Blushing, "Don't--"

Dean is in his space, growls, "Fuck, that's _hot_ ," and pushes Sam against the wall next to the bathroom. Sam doesn't have time to say anything because Dean's mouth is covering his, kissing him for all he's worth and stealing all his breath away. He thinks _supernatural_ once again before the rest of his blood leaves his face and swells his cock even more in the panties. He's leaking precome onto the lace and he wonders how the fabric isn't tearing with the strain. Dean isn't giving him any breathing room, their chests are pressed together, Dean's sleep shirt and Sam's bare skin, and Dean's hips cant forward, right into Sam's. "Fuck, Sammy," he pants against kiss-swollen lips. "This why you were late?" He grinds his open jeans against Sam's lace-covered cock and they both hiss. "This for me, baby?"

Sam closes his eyes, blushing again, but not from embarrassment. He's turned on and so hopelessly in love it hurts. He's been longing to hear Dean calling him pet names again. He fights back tears. Dean kisses him again. hands framing his face as he deepens it. His callouses are rougher than he remembers, probably from fighting for his life in purgatory and Sam feels guilt deep in his gut. He should have looked harder, shouldn't have let Amelia practically con him into taking care of Riot.

But Sam's always had a bleeding heart and a soft spot for broken people, being on the road with one and being broken himself. He spent months lost in a daze, even more time crying himself to sleep in the Impala on the side of the highway when the sleep deprivation got to be too much for him. He was tired and hurt after following leads to what could have happened to his brother and Cas and how he could get them back, when he hit Riot and got chewed out by a feisty vet. Dean never needs to know how many times he almost killed himself, or how Amelia and Riot were the only things keeping him from doing it.

Thumbs brush away the tears he didn't realize were falling and he gasps, pulls back in shock.

"Sam--" Cautious, concerned.

Sam shakes his head, pulls his brother closer by the arms around his neck. He buries his face in Dean's shoulder and whispers, "I'm so sorry, Dean." His tears soak Dean's shirt.

"Sam," Dean starts again, "Sam, hey, shh, it's okay." He feels fingers carding through his long hair, nails scratching at his scalp and calming him down. "I've got you, okay?"

He lets Sam cry for what seems like an eternity before Sam pulls back slightly and Dean lets go. Their eyes lock, hazel on green, and they kiss again, gentler this time. Dean whispers, "Do you want this, Sam?" against his little brother's lips and Sam nods. "Need to hear you say it, baby boy."

"I want you, Dean."

That's apparently all Dean needed to hear.

Dean gets them to the bed -- Dean's bed -- and gently lays Sam out on the covers. He stands at the foot of the bed, eyes raking over his little brother's blushing form, wearing nothing but white lace panties, all for Dean. "You're beautiful, little brother." It slips out accidentally, but he means it nonetheless. Sam's dick twitches in the panties at being called _little brother_ during sex.

He watches Dean strip down to nothing, his big brother completely bare as he climbs onto the bed, on top of Sam. Sam hooks a finger in the panties to pull them off, but a warm calloused hand on his wrist stops him. "These stay," Dean practically growls, and Sam lets go of the fabric. "Turn over for me, hands and knees, baby boy." The command goes straight to his cock and he obeys.

Dean steadies him with warm palms on Sam's thin hips, adjusts him the way he wants him to be before draping himself over Sam's back. Kisses the back of Sam's shower-damp hair and breathes in the scent of Sam's girly shampoo. Buries his nose in the soft damp strands. Sam feels Dean's hand between their bodies, feels him adjust his dick and press against the inside of Sam's thighs. He grabs tight to Sam's thighs and pushes them together, closing them around Dean's hard cock.

" _Oh_!" Sam gasps.

Pressing hard against Sam's ass, Dean growls in his ear, "That's it, baby, keep 'em closed tight." He starts thrusting, pelvis bumping hard against Sam's ass as he fucks Sam's thighs, taking his pleasure that way. "Gonne come all over these panties, Sammy, get 'em nice and wet and then I'm gonna suck you off through the lace until you're completely soaked in our come."

"Oh god, Dean..."

"Fuck, baby, yeah, squeeze just like that, that's it--"

" _Dean_!" he shouts when Dean angles his thrusts to press the head of his cock against the crack of Sam's ass, pressing through the now wet fabric of his panties. "Ah!"

"Can't wait to fuck this ass again, Sammy," he mouths against Sam's sweaty neck, biting down on the skin, then licking the hurt. "Have to claim you, huh? It's been too long and you've gone too wild. Let someone else touch you while I was gone. I'm gonna erase her touch and burn mine into your skin with my hands and my mouth and my come."

He fucks harder, squeezes Sam's thighs tighter for that sweet friction, then paints the insides of Sam's thighs and his panties with his come. Fingers the panties aside and buries his face in the crack of Sam's ass, tonguefucking his brother until he's a whining writhing mess, then flips him onto his back and noses at his hard dick trapped in the soaking wet lace. "God, Sammy, do you know how fucking hot you are? How _wet_? You're fucking gorgeous, look at you." His hot breath ghosts over Sam's trembling member. He holds Sam's hips down with strong hands, mouths at the twitching, aching cock, before opening his mouth and _sucking_ long and hard. Sam tries to buck but Dean's stronger, weathered by purgatory, fighting for his life while Sam repaired faucets.

His little brother is moaning like a bitch in heat and Dean can't get enough.

He sucks harder, tonguing at the lace, incited on by his little brother's whimpers and whines of his name. Sam is close, thighs trembling as Dean works him with his tongue.

Somehow it feels phenomenal through the lace. He throws his head back against the pillow and shouts when a thumb pushes the panties aside and two fingers find their way inside his tongue-fucked hole. He's wet and messy, hole sloppy and used but he fucking loves it. He comes hard with a cry of his big brother's name. Dean sucks up the come he can get through the lace then leans up and grins at Sam like the cat that got the canary. His big brother is a predator, Sam his prey. He shivers at the glint in those green eyes.

Lips press against his and he tastes his come on Dean's tongue. The fingers vacate his pulsing channel, and he sighs at the loss.

"Best make-up sex ever, Sammy." Sam rolls his eyes and shoves at Dean's chest. He wants another shower. He's sticky with both his own come and his brother's come. He didn't miss this feeling, but he did miss feeling completely and utterly owned and debauched. "I think we ruined your panties, though. Gonna have to get you some more, eh?"

"I got a pair of black ones, too."

" _Fuck_ , Sammy."

He kisses Sam breathless all over again, dick twitching against Sam's trembling thigh. Sam goes along for the ride.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
